shannon ran down the beach sometime way, way, way after midnight - heading towards the early version of the sun

sand between her toes- wind whipping through her 200 dollar dye job - twisting itself around her time stained face - headed towards the late version of the moon

and then

shannon couldn't run anymore - her dye stained hair found a place to nestle tightly up on her head - the wind ceased to whip

and shannon wasn't shannon

anymore

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